WWGD?
by sasha1600
Summary: Tony's role as Agent Afloat takes an unexpected turn.  Warning: spanking of adult.  Don't like?  Don't read.
1. Chapter 1

**WWGD?**

**Summary: **Tony's role as Agent Afloat takes an unexpected turn. **Warning:** spanking of adult. Don't like? Don't read.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own them, I just play with them.

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><p>AN: This is part of my 'Lessons' series and builds on a larger plot arc. This takes place between Judgement Day and Last Man Standing.

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><p>'You've got to be kidding me!' Tony thought, following the tell-tale odour into a relatively isolated corner of a deck that should be deserted at this hour.<p>

The sailor leaning over the railing was young, and the lack of a tan suggested he was one of the new crew members who'd come aboard only that morning. At the sound of his footsteps, he spun around, somehow managing to look both panic-stricken and embarrassed at the same time. He didn't even have the presence of mind to drop the joint into the ocean, destroying the evidence.

'Oh, shit! I mean, sorry, Sir...' the kid stammered. 'I don't usually... I mean, it's just... my brother gave me... he said it would help... with the seasickness, I mean...'

Tony cut off the babbling with an impatient wave of his hand and looked him over critically. He'd had enough experience with McGee's reaction to anything floating – this kid didn't look particularly bothered by the ship's motion.

'You don't appear to be seasick, Seaman Richardson,' he commented dryly, glancing quickly at the kid's nametag.

'Oh, I'm not, Sir,' Richardson replied earnestly. 'But I brought it because I thought I might be... and I didn't see any reason to waste it...'

The kid unconsciously raised the joint to his lips, blushing deeply when he realised what he was doing.

Tony rolled his eyes and sighed, snatching it from him, stubbing it out on the railing, and reaching into a pocket for an ever-present evidence bag. He'd only come out here because he wanted some fresh air before heading to bed, and it was someplace where he could usually be alone for a few minutes. He really didn't want to be dealing with this crap, especially since his day had started before dawn.

'Ok, c'mon,' he ordered, grabbing the kid by an arm and steering him in the direction of his office.

'You're turning me in?' Richardson squawked. 'C'mon, man... don't tell the...'

'This is your unlucky day, kid. I'm the Agent Afloat...'

'Oh, shit! My first day on my first ship and I'm already fucking it up...'

Tony didn't reply. The kid was getting off to a spectacularly bad start.

'Malcolm is going to kill me...'

'Malcolm?'

'My brother...'

Tony bit back a comment about Malcolm's right to be upset, when he'd provided the marijuana in the first place.

'Our parents died in a car accident last year. He took a year off from college, came home... so I could finish high school. My grades weren't good enough for a scholarship, so...'

Richardson babbled for a bit longer before trailing off, finally falling silent. Tony got the sense that he wasn't looking for sympathy, really. The kid just hadn't had anyone he could talk to for too long.

They stepped into the brighter light of the corridor, and he realised he'd been right in his initial assessment. This sailor was _young_. And he didn't have the slightly cocky look of most of the delinquents who passed through his office. This was just a kid who'd picked a really bad place to do something dumb.

It wasn't long before they reached his cubby-hole of an office.

_Ah, kid..._ he thought, ushering a morose Richardson through the door. _What am I going to do with you?_


	2. Chapter 2

Tony rounded the corner, hesitating before moving any closer to his office door. He'd left Richardson there while he'd searched the young sailor's rack and locker. The kid either had been telling the truth when he'd insisted that he'd only brought one joint aboard, or he'd found somewhere else to stash the rest of his pot.

He was inclined to believe he was telling the truth, which was why he'd made a detour to one of the recreation rooms on his way back to his office.

His reaction to the kid surprised him. He'd felt sympathy for some of the people he'd arrested over the years, but he'd never considered doing anything like this for them.

As he'd done many times over the last couple of months, he fingered the chain around his neck, remembering everything he'd learned from the man who'd added a small gold disc to the dog tags hanging there.

_What would Gibbs do?_ he asked himself.

However much he didn't like it, the answer was clear.

Swallowing hard against the rising self-doubt about whether he could actually go through with this, he crossed the last few feet and swung open the door.


	3. Chapter 3

The kid leapt to his feet the moment the door opened.

'Sir, I...'

Tony was starting to understand why Gibbs hated the title so much, but this wasn't the time for that.

'Do you really think that using an illegal, mind-altering substance on a warship is a good idea, Seaman?' he demanded, hoping he sounded stern.

'Uh... no, Sir. Not when you put it like...'

'How else do you want me to put it, Seaman?'

Richardson looked sheepishly at him for a moment before lowering his eyes to the floor.

'What's going to happen to me, Sir?' he mumbled, barely audible.

'That's up to you, Seaman.'

The kid's head snapped up in shock.

'You want to deal with this on the record? Or off the record?'

Richardson's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, trying to figure out what the choice actually entailed, and clearly wondering if he'd missed something in his pre-deployment training that should have explained those options.

'Sir? I...'

'On the record gets you a conversation with the skipper, who's probably going to be pretty pissed that you're making him deal with this crap your first day on his ship. It'll be his call, but I'm guessing you'll get a week in the brig and a note in your file that will screw up your first promotion.'

Richardson's eyes widened as he realised, probably for the first time, just how much trouble he was in. He swallowed visibly before managing to choke out, 'And... off the record?'

'Off the record gets you bent over my desk getting paddled,' he told him bluntly, watching him carefully for his reaction.

To his surprise, the kid didn't even hesitate before replying firmly, 'Off the record.'

'You understand what you're agreeing to, Seaman?' he asked. He couldn't imagine talking the kid into it if he baulked, and if he were honest with himself, he'd been half-hoping that Richardson would choose the formal consequences, so he wouldn't have to follow through with this. But the ease with which the young sailor seemed to accept the idea was unnerving.

'Yes, Sir,' he said, blushing slightly. 'It's pretty much what my father would have done, if I'd tried something this stupid at home,' he elaborated.

'Ok, then, let's get this over with,' Tony said with, he hoped, more confidence than he felt. He gestured towards the battered metal desk.

Richardson nodded, turned to face the desk, and wordlessly bent over with the ease of experience. Tony blinked, not sure if he should feel reassured by the obvious indication that the kid had indeed done this before, or concerned that his own rookie efforts wouldn't meet the kid's expectations.

He'd been on the receiving end of enough spankings, but he'd never handed one out. It seemed pretty straight-forward, but he wasn't entirely sure how much force he should use – he wanted this to hurt enough to send a clear message, but he didn't want to go too far. And he wasn't sure how he was supposed to know when to stop. And that didn't even begin to address his real concern – how the hell he was supposed to stand there and deliberately _hurt_ this kid, and to keep going when he cried out in pain?

He briefly wondered how Gibbs would react to a late-night call asking for spanking advice.

Trying hard to ignore his own nervousness, he reached into the gym bag he was carrying and pulled out the ping-pong paddle that he'd picked up from the rec room.

Taking a deep breath, he raised his arm and brought the paddle down hard on the waiting backside. Richardson hissed in pain, but didn't move. Resolutely ignoring his own discomfort with the situation, he delivered another hard swat. And another. It wasn't long before the younger man was gasping loudly with each stroke, and visibly straining to stay in position. A few more swats had him sobbing into his folded arms. Tony stopped.

It took Richardson a few moments to push himself shakily to his feet.

Which gave Tony a chance to get his own emotions under control before he had to pretend not to be nearly as shaken up as the guy who'd taken the paddling at his hands.

'I've just given you a second chance, Seaman. Don't screw it up,' he told him when he finally turned to face him, self-consciously wiping his eyes on his sleeve.

'I won't, Sir. And... thank you,' Richardson choked out, his voice cracking slightly. Tony suppressed a wince. The kid was obviously in pain, and he was _thanking_ him?

'Alright, Seaman... dismissed,' he said, softening the bluntness of the words with a grim smile.

As he'd hoped he would, Richardson left quickly, moving only a little awkwardly. Tony sighed in relief and scrubbed a hand over his face. Glancing at the clock near the door, he wondered if it was too late to call Gibbs after all.


End file.
